Paging Dr. Hot (5 page)

A flight in the middle of the night—this is the most exciting thing that’s happened in a long while. I feel like leaping in the air and clicking my paws together, but my stubby legs won’t cooperate and it would probably scare Francesca.

Dr. Taylor, here we come.

Chapter Four

When Romeo and I arrive at his office, Harrison ushers us inside. I follow his lead and admire the way his button down shirt stretches over his broad shoulders and the way his jeans nicely mold his muscular butt and thighs. Harrison stops before a door and opens it, motioning for us to enter the no-frills examining room before him.

Standing before his powerful build, my knees begin to wobble.
Stop it. Bad mommy!
I can’t believe I’m checking him out when my baby is in a crisis. What kind of a mother am I?

I revert my attention to Romeo, who is trembling in my arms, looking pitiful and absolutely adorable.

“Hey, Romeo.” Harrison takes him from me and pets him. “What’s wrong, little guy, not feeling well?” He tilts Romeo’s snout upward and looks into his eyes.

Romeo peers up at Harrison and moans.

With a sympathetic nod, Harrison puts Romeo on the scale and makes note of his weight. “So what happened?” he asks, turning concerned eyes toward me.

“Romeo had some sort of seizure.”

“How long did it last?”

“A few minutes.”

Harrison’s forest-green eyes are mesmerizing as he gazes at me intently. “Has this happened before?”

“No, never. This was the first time and it was terrifying.”

“Did he lose control of bodily functions—did he urinate, vomit…”

Romeo emits a loud grunt. People don’t believe me when I say my dog has the vocabulary of a smart child, but he does.

“No, nothing like that,” I say. “I don’t understand it. Before we moved down here, Romeo had a check-up and everything was perfect. He’s up to date on his shots until next March.”

“Any other signs before the seizure, like did he run in circles chasing his tail?”

“I’m not sure. I was out for the evening. It happened when I got back.”

“Hmm,” Harrison says, his dark brows furrowed.

“What does ‘hmm’ mean?”

“I’ll run some tests and we’ll see.” He sounds too noncommittal for my peace of mind. I want answers!

I grab his arm. “What aren’t you telling me? Can’t you give me a clue to what’s wrong?”

Harrison raises a pointed eyebrow at my hand clutching his arm, and I release it.

“Calm down, Frankie. I know what I’m doing,” he says.

For the next few minutes, Harrison asks questions and I fill him in on Romeo’s background and habits. I try to remain calm while he examines him and draws blood, but it seems to go on forever. When he finishes, Romeo has miraculously stopped shaking and is thrilled to be in Harrison’s hands as he gazes up at him with worshipful eyes.

I’m captivated by the sight of Romeo’s little head dwarfed by Harrison’s big hand as he pets him. His hands are large and strong, rugged and manly. I start to feel tingly all the way to my toes and a pleasant sensation warms my body. My face feels flushed and I begin to fan myself with my hand.

I stop cold.

Oh, no! The aphrodisiacs are kicking in. Not
now
of all times. Devon’s gleeful prophecy rushes back to haunt me:
You’ll feel the effects long afterwards
.

I glance at Harrison, wondering if he noticed. Probably not—he’s too intent on examining Romeo.

Harrison’s broad shoulders and strong neck snare my attention. His shirt sleeves are rolled up at the elbows, so naturally I check out his arms too. Nice…powerful and thickly corded with muscles. Does he have to be so freaking hot? I hear him say something. Tearing my gaze from his forearms, I catch the quizzical look on his face.

“What?” I ask defensively.

“I asked you if Romeo has been sleeping and eating okay.”

“No problems there.”

“Hmm,” Harrison grunts.

“What does that mean?” I’m not thrilled with the way Harrison keeps saying “hmm” and not offering any diagnosis.

“Everything so far checks out fine. He seems to be in perfect health. Dogs can have seizures for a variety of reasons ranging from poison to epilepsy.”

“Romeo has
epilepsy
? Are you sure?” I ask, taken aback.

“I didn’t say he has epilepsy. I was telling you the reasons a dog might have a seizure,” he says in a patient voice.

“But this is the first time he’s ever had an episode like that in the four years he’s been with me.”

“Let’s wait for the lab work to come back…”

“Wait, I just remembered something. When my, er, date arrived, Romeo started sneezing and barking hysterically. Do you think his strong cologne might have caused the seizure? I mean, could it work like poison or something? Romeo was pretty agitated.”

Harrison gives me a strange look and I worry I’m coming across as a babbling moron. “It’s not likely a dog would have such a reaction to cologne. Especially hours later,” he says.

“Are you sure? You weren’t there to smell it. It was intense.”

He gives me a slight frown. “Yes, I’m sure. Would you like to see my diploma? I did graduate, you know.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I doubt you,” I say earnestly.

There’s an awkward silence and then he asks, “Big night on the town?”

I follow his gaze and remember I’m dressed in South Beach mode, a short red dress and high-heeled bronze gladiator sandals.

“I was trying out a new restaurant.”

“Oh? Which one?”

I give a nonchalant shrug. “Er, um…I don’t remember the name. Some place in South Beach,” I say, hating how lame that sounds, but I’d rather not reveal it was Tantra.

He looks skeptical. “Really? What kind of food was it?”

“Never mind. You probably wouldn’t like it.” I’m glad he recently moved from Colorado and might not know about Tantra.

He studies me with a thoughtful expression. “Must not have made much of an impression. I had a good steak at Graziano’s on the Mile tonight. Have you been there?”

“No, I’ll have to check it out.” Enough about restaurants, I want to know if my baby is going to be okay.

“Can Romeo resume his normal life now?” I ask.

Harrison smiles and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He has dreamy eyes, so green and dark lashed…

“Of course, but be on the lookout for any behavior changes. Other than that, give him an extra dose of TLC.”

Meanwhile, Romeo has rolled onto his back and his stumpy hind legs are pedaling happily while Harrison scratches his tummy.

“Oh, he gets plenty of TLC. We’re going to the doggy park tomorrow morning, right Romeo?”

Romeo only has eyes for Harrison. Dark, liquid eyes that gaze up at him with adoration. The turncoat. I lean in to gather Romeo in my arms when Harrison moves forward at the same time, his thick forearm accidentally brushing against my breast.

I pretend not to notice what happened and he does, too, but a hot thrill shoots through me, making me lightheaded with desire. What is the matter with me? My dog is sick and I’m lusting over the vet. My cheeks heat up and I’m sure they’re deep pink.

“What park do you take him to?”

“Kennedy Park, the one in Coconut Grove. We usually get there around eight in the morning. Romeo has already made friends there. Me too.” I smile at him.

Harrison smiles back and my stomach does a little flip flop.

“Thanks for taking care of Romeo at this late hour. It was so nice of you to open up for us.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I was heading over anyway. While we were at dinner, I realized I left my sunglasses here.”

We?
It’s Friday night; Harrison must have been on a date. I wonder who he went out with, and I can’t help feeling let down.

“How much do I owe you?” I fumble with my purse as I follow him to the front desk.

“Romeo’s first visit is on the house. Amanda will bill you for the lab work.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” I try not to stare at Harrison’s firm mouth. Has it been that long since I’ve had a decent kiss? Apparently so, from the way I’m imagining how delicious his would be.

“You’re welcome.” Harrison stretches and Romeo stretches in synch. They are so good together. “My partner, Dr. Foster, will be here all day tomorrow if you need anything, but I won’t. I’ll be skydiving.”

“You couldn’t pay me to skydive.”

“It’s fun. You should try it.”

I nod politely, but inside I disagree. Why does Harrison have to be so hot with that solid, athletic build and those gorgeous eyes? Not to mention manly hands that I can’t take my eyes off. He’s into dangerous, extreme sports and my nerves couldn’t handle that in a relationship. Not that he’s acting interested, but I’m battling the effects of potent aphrodisiacs and tonight he’s rocking my world.

Harrison opens the door and follows us outside.

“I guess I’ll wait to hear from you about the lab results,” I say.

“Yes.” He stands by while I unlock my car, and then opens the door for me.

“Drive safely now.” He shuts the door and steps away.

“Thanks, you too,” I say, taking note of his good manners. He watches us drive off before heading back to close up his office. That’s more than most guys would do these days.

Nevertheless, I have to scratch him off my list. Hot as he is, Harrison isn’t the type of doctor I’m looking for.

Someone is licking my face. I force my eyes open and wake up to a pounding heart and a king-size headache.

“Oh, Romeo, thank God, it’s you.” I smother my doggy’s sweet little face in kisses and rub his ears.

Ugh. Another disturbing dream that felt like the real deal. In it, Devon and I were at Tantra, lounging together in the love hammock. He was bare-chested, wearing a turban and white drawstring pants while he fed me aphrodisiac-laced sweetmeats. When he lunged at me with an open-mouthed kiss, I woke up in a cold sweat.

I shudder,
relieved it was Romeo doing the licking. While I stretch, Romeo leaps off the bed and bolts to the front door. It’s Saturday morning and he hasn’t forgotten my promise to take him to the doggy park.

“Hold on. Let me get dressed,” I say, pulling on white Capris, a coral tank top and white flip-flops. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and slather on sunscreen and insect repellant, lest I forget my allergy to insect venom.

“We’re going to the doggy park!” I call out.

Romeo does a little dance and we’re off.

Kennedy Park is one of the friendliest places in Miami, with the best water views. It’s a beautiful spot to watch the sun rise. Some say it’s wasted on the dogs, but I love it.

Our arrival is met with greetings from owners and dogs alike. In two months we’ve already made friends with the regulars.

I notice the addition of a kiddy pool on one side of the park in celebration of Sassy the cocker spaniel’s twelfth birthday. Most of them are jumping in and out of the muddy water, splashing their owners and taking turns chasing and sniffing each other.

But not my Romeo. He’s a northern dog and never learned how to swim. I feel I’ve been remiss as I watch him hover on the sidelines as the others frolic in the pool. I consider putting him in, but I don’t want to embarrass him in front of his peers. Maybe swimming is instinctual in dogs, but I don’t want to take any chances. Romeo hates to lose face.

I’m enjoying a chat with Liliana, a sculptor and artist from Argentina who has a studio in the Grove, when an insect starts buzzing around us.

I wave my arms frantically and dart around. Liliana starts laughing. “Francesca, what on earth are you doing?”

“I’m afraid I’ll get stung. I’m allergic to insect venom. Let’s get away from those bushes,” I say, leading her in the other direction.

“It’s only a mosquito,” she says, swatting it. “See? Relax.”

“Okay, but last month I landed in the ER with anaphylactic shock from a sting.” It doesn’t hurt to be prepared. I have insect repellant on my body, but I didn’t put any on my face, and my scalp is unprotected too. I pat my pocket for the second time that morning, making sure that the EpiPen, my lifesaver, is there.

Liliana is busy telling me about her latest exhibit when I hear a commotion. We turn at the same time to see Romeo flailing in the pool, gulping tons of water. OMG, he’s drowning! I race toward the little pool and trip over the edge, landing face down
with a splat next to him. The dogs in the pool yip and bark wildly as muddy water splashes around us. Romeo looks wild-eyed as I cradle him in my arms. Dripping wet, I pull myself up out of the shallow pool. My once white Capris and coral tank are clinging to me like plastic wrap.

On dry land, I lay Romeo on his tummy and pat his back. “Cough it all up, baby,” I urge while he spits up water, his tiny chest heaving raucously. “There, there, you’re going to be fine. Who’s my big boy? You are, Romeo, you are.” I lift his drenched little body into my arms as he gives a feeble howl.